
ns 




Author 



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16—47372-* 6PO 



MEMORIAL 



GERARD HALLOOK 



J. HALSTED CARROLL. 



1 



MEMORIAL 



GERARD HALLOCK 



J. HALSTED CARROLL. 



NEW HAVEN. 

PRINTED BY TUTTLE, MOREHOUSE & TAYLOR. 
1866. 



. H &8G C T> 






The following Discourse was delivered in the South Congregational 
Church, New Haven, January 14th, 1866. In this delineation of Mr. 
Hallock's character, the author's thanks, for valuable assistance, are 
due to his honored predecessor, under whose ministry the deceased 
united with the Church ; also to the elder brother of the deceased ; 
and to the family for generous access to private correspondence — 
the letters of father and of husband. 



DISCOURSE 



' Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." — John v : 47. 

'For he loveth our nation, and he hath built us a syna- 
gogue." — Luke vii: 5. 



Gerard Hallock, our dear departed broth- 
er, of whom we stand pledged to say some- 
thing commemorative to-day, was born in 
Plainfield, Mass., on the eighteenth of March, 
in the year 1800. He was the son of He v. 
Moses Hallock, highly distinguished among the 
ministers of his day for his humility and devo- 
tion. In 1815, when fifteen years of age, he 
entered Williams College, and graduated in 
1819 with the second honor in his class, hav- 
ing left the first to his brother, Rev. Wm. A. 
Hallock, D.D., then six years older than himself. 



Their excellent father had educated these two 
sons for the ministry, and sent them, though 
not yet converted, to Andover to study 
divinity. There William professed religion and 
became a minister of the gospel. But Gerard, 
despairing of his own conversion, left Andover, 
and in 1823 entered upon that calling in life, in 
his judgment second only to the ministry in 
Christian usefulness, the editing of a religious 
newspaper. He was soon invited to exchange 
his prospering infant enterprise for one of the 
same kind, more responsible and remunerative, 
and accepted the invitation. Very soon he 
was called to another position of the same kind, 
still more extensive and commanding, and this 
too he accepted. In 1827, to reform and 
christianize, if possible, the political press of 
the country, the Journal of Commerce was estab- 
lished, and having failed in the hands of Mr. 
Maxwell, of Va., and Mr. (now Dr.) Bushnell, of 
Conn., it was offered to Mr. Callock in 1828. 
Upon reflection, he accepted the proposal 



made, became a joint proprietor with David 
Hale, Esq., and continued to discharge the 
onerous and honorable duties of the position 
until August 31st, 1861. At this time, a sum- 
mary process of one branch of the govern- 
ment against the Journal, summoned him, in 
its operation, to decide whether he would sur- 
render his principles, or his paper. On that 
day Mr. Hallock retired from all connection with 
the Journal of Commerce, after a laborious, suc- 
cessful, valuable, and honorable editorial career 
of thirty-eight years. Since that time, he has 
been living quietly at his home in this city, as 
a private citizen, finding his principal interest 
in his Christian duties. His health began to fail 
nearly three years ago ; he became desperately 
ill not long since, and under a terrible complica- 
tion of diseases, he departed this life at his resi- 
dence, on Thursday, the 4th of January. 

When a man of mark, merit, and benevolent 
achievement passes away, it is manifestly proper 
that his surviving neighbors should turn aside 



from ordinary business and spend an hour in 
surveying the work he has done, and the powers 
that vjrought it, that thus they may cherish 
a grateful memory of the departed, and com- 
mend his example to universal imitation. 

It is hard to compute Mr. Hallock's work 
for man. It may be said, in general, that he 
has left the world the benefit of a long life of 
unblemished morality, terminating in later 
years in a personal Christianity most consistent, 
liberal, regular, and zealous. It may be said, in 
particular, that for a considerable period he 
conducted religious journals in different cities, 
by universal consent, with distinguished ability ; 
that by prominent co-operation he secured the 
establishment of the Southern Aid Society, and 
thus contributed to re-open a channel for the 
disbursement of Northern Missionary funds at 
the South after the original avenue had been 
closed by the national organization ; that by 
troubling himself to obtain some history of the 
parties, and the sums required for their libera- 



tion, by repeated brief and earnest solicita- 
tions in his paper for the necessary contribu- 
tions additional to his own, and by receiving 
and transmitting the sums contributed, and 
continuing this operation for a succession of 
months, or years, to his honor we record it, Mr. 
Hallock secured the liberation of a large mul- 
titude of slaves ; and finally, that he constructed 
a commodious, excellent, and well furnished 
Christian sanctuary, and donated to its occu- 
pants a liberal support for a succession of years. 
But we must pass by these and similar servi- 
ces, to find Mr. Hallock's pre-eminently valuable 
work on earth. Half a century ago all good 
men felt, and the common parlance of the world 
confessed, that every Christian virtue had long 
been banished from the political journals of the 
day. It was solemnly proposed by good men, 
into this most important but abandoned field to 
attempt the introduction of Christian moral- 
ity, dignity, charity, and truth. To accomplish 
this worthy end, the Journal of Commerce was 



10 

established in 1827, and committed to the 
editorship of two of the most talented and dis- 
tinguished men of that day. The enterprise 
failed and was about to be abandoned, when, as 
a last resort, Mr. Hallock was earnestly be- 
sought to undertake the discouraging task. 
As we have seen, he did so, and all admit that 
he maintained the Christian virtues in the con- 
duct of a political paper, — that very platform 
on which such virtue had been strangled for 
a generation. 

In proof of this important fact we shall ad- 
duce but two witnesses. The first is popular 
concession., A few days ago, a retired merchant 
in Brooklyn, with much earnestness thus ad- 
dressed a friend: — "I hear that Mr. Hallock 
is sick. Do remember me to him most kindly. 
I love and honor that man. For thirty years 
before I knew him, I could find the truth 
nowhere but in his paper, and I always found 
it there " Now just what this man affirms of 
the truthfulness of Mr. Hallock and his paper, 



11 

has been asserted by the impartial men of all 
parties, in all sections of the country, for the 
last thirty years. Should this testimony be 
disputed, we present a more incontrovertible 
witness. In Mr. Hallock's house there is a 
service of plate, bearing this inscription : 

" Presented to Gerard Hallock, Esq., by his fellow citi- 
zens, as a memento of their regard and estee?nfor the able, 
faithful, and impartial manner in which he has discharged 
his duties to the 'public as editor of one of the principal jour- 
nals during the interesting and exciting Presidential cam- 
paign of 1844." 

This service of silver was presented to Mr. 
Hallock by men of both political parties, in 
nearly equal numbers. 

He was one of the most immutable of men. 
What was true of the principles of his editor- 
ship in 1844, was equally true of his habitual 
practice both before and since that period. 

Now if for the weal of men in the preser- 
vation of truth, he stepped upon one of the 
most crowded, and popular, and powerful are- 
nas of human life, where Christianity had been 



12 

thrown down and trodden under foot for half a 
century — I say, if Mr. Hallock did indeed stem 
that fierce torrent and act out the saving prin- 
ciples of Christian virtue boldly and successfully 
for four and thirty years, then here is a work 
whose manifold important benevolent bearings 
human arithmetic can hardly compute. Think 
of all the moral and religious intelligence, doc- 
trines, and counsels, which from this elevated 
stand-point were dispersed over a broad area 
of ruling mind, for four and thirty years ! 
Think of all the commanding influence of the 
Journal of Commerce over the democratic press 
of the country, and the necessary exemplary 
power, restraining and sanctifying, upon all the 
hostile cotemporary journals of the city and 
the land, for the same long period. Think of 
all the shaping of events and measures, of the 
course of parties, of the destiny of the nation, 
by those valued editorials, so seasonable, mas- 
sive, well-poised, sagacious, and intrepid — for 
the same long period! And who, I say, can 



13 

readily comprehend all the work done for 
Christianity and the country by his protracted 
services in the conduct of the Journal of Com- 
merce for four and thirty years ! Surely to 
accomplish all this, some sort of power was 
necessary. What was that power ? 

Gerard Hallock was a man of no ordinary 
intellect. So thought his classmates, accus- 
tomed as they were to recur to his high schol- 
arship for the solution of the mysterious prob- 
lems of the lesson they did not comprehend. 
So thought the Faculty of Williams College, 
when, at his graduation, they awarded to him 
these prominent distinctions, the Greek Ora- 
tion and the Poem. So thought the Christian 
public, when they furnished so liberal a pat- 
ronage to three religious papers of which he 
was successively the editor. So thought the 
political world, when, through its flattering 
countenance that very journal which two 
selected men from the north and south had 
failed to set in motion, through his supervision 



14 

had been gradually worked up to a position of 
unexampled prosperity and power. So thought 
the government, when they ascertained that 
the editorials of the Journal of Commerce exer- 
cised so commanding an influence over the 
press of the land. 

"Were the intellect of Mr. Hallock subjected 
to a careful analysis, it would probably be pro- 
nounced eminently excellent in four respects. 

Its simplicity. Simplicity was the ground- 
work of every element which made up the man, 
and certainly pertained to his mind. In its 
structure and operations there was nothing 
stately or rigid ; nothing showy ; nothing an- 
gular or overstrained. On the contrary, in 
all its conceptions and utterance, his intel- 
lect was perfectly simple, natural, childlike, 
straight-forward. 

Its accuracy. In all its judgments and state- 
ments, its arguments and language, Mr. Hal- 
lock's mind was extraordinarily accurate. 

Its strength. Whenever he was found in 



15 

company, in his wisdom and modesty, lie never 
opened his lips unless he had something to say. 
The moment he commenced to speak, every 
one felt that what he might say would well 
nigh settle all doubts upon the subject. Thus 
judged by conversation, all men felt the ruling 
strength of his mind. Try his intellect by the 
next theatre of display, paragraph writing. 
The editorials of the Journal, so seasonable 
and sagacious ; so just and true ; so full of 
common-sense and forecast, — verily, it would 
seem to be the general verdict, that for naked 
practical strength such another body of politi- 
cal paragraphs can scarcely be gathered from 
the press of the country. The last and high- 
est ordinary ordeal for the trial of intellect is 
polemic discussion. He was a shrewd, expert, 
and powerful debater. He always exhibited a 
dignified spirit, and pressed the strong points. 
He knew how to assail, and how to retort ; to 
detect a sophism, or despise an insult. He 
knew, too, when to administer the keen thrust, 



16 

and when to deal the heavy blow. In a 
word — to lay yonr hand upon the man who 
was a more accomplished polemic, or had 
successfully broken a lance with the editor 
of the Journal of Commerce, you would have 
to travel far, and then probably fail to find 
him. Thus, judged by any of the ordinary 
methods of testing mental strength ; candor 
would certainly pronounce Mr. Hallock a man 
of powerful intellect. 

After all, the crowning characteristic of his 
mind was versatility. He was ever ready for 
any mental work to which he might be called — 
narration, discussion, calculation, or prediction. 
In all these fields, be the topic what it might, he 
would throw out strong common- sense views 
which would be sure to commend themselves 
to the reader. And should you prefer an 
excursion to the regions of fancy, he could 
accompany you there. Beyond a question, 
he had all the temperament and genius of 
a poet. He who seeks satisfaction on this 



17 

point, may find it if he will peruse the fugi- 
tive productions of his youth, or the more 
delicate effusions of his riper years. Indeed, 
the Faculty of Williams College have well nigh 
settled this question. They knew him well, 
for they had the intimate handling of his mind 
for years. At his graduation, they awarded to 
him the Greek Oration, to fix the grade of his 
scholarship : and then, they awarded to him 
the Poem. Why ? They then and there orig- 
inated this distinction purposely to express 
their high admiration of his peculiar poetic tem- 
per and capacity. May we not say then, in 
conclusion, that Mr. Hallock's mind was char- 
acterized by distinguished excellence in simpli- 
city, accuracy, strength, and versatility. 

But why discuss the intellectual claims of 
our modest, noble brother, at this late day ? 
The meed of superior faculties and scholarship 
has long been inscribed on the record of uni- 
versal acknowledgment and admiration ; and 
since his death, has been most cheerfully, lion- 



18 

orably, and abundantly conceded by the bitter- 
est and ablest of his opponents in the edito- 
rial fraternity. 

No man should be surprised that Mr. Hal- 
lock accomplished so valuable a work in life, 
when he reflects that his moral character was 
every way equal to his mental endowments. 
Nathaniel was an Israelite indeed, in whom 
was no guile. Barring icRocy and infamy, the 
negation of all guile is well nigh equivalent to 
the affirmation of all rectitude. How far our 
departed brother merited the encomium passed 
upon Nathaniel, none but Nathaniel's eulogist 
can accurately tell, especially as the deceased 
was singularly retiring and reticent, and there- 
fore opened himself but very partially either 
to the observation or conversation of men. 
We do not wonder, then, that so many of his 
neighbors entertained the belief that he adopt- 
ed his views of Southern institutions, simply 
to court the patronage of the South ; his po- 
litical creed, only to curry favor with the dom- 



19 

inant party in politics ; in a word, that he 
managed all his affairs with the single purpose 
of securing to himself material aggrandizement. 
Alas ! How little did such men know of our 
departed brother ! The world has seldom seen 
a more guileless man. He was a radiant 
representative of a class of virtues certainly 
the least conspicuous, if not the most worthy. 
The deceased was eminently pure. Although 
he ever felt and freely owned himself one of 
the vilest of sinners, so diminutive were the 
vicious alloys of his character, and so infre- 
quent their exhibition in life, that it is ques- 
tionable whether his most intimate acquain- 
tance could readily recur to a single act or 
expression of Mr. Hallock, which, at the time, 
he had naturally set down to passion, or pride, 
or ambition, or covetousness, or selfishness, 
or malice. Compared with men as we find 
them in life, it is indeed a hearty comfort to 
feel that our departed brother was remarkably 
pure. 



20 

The deceased was eminently upright. It 
would be hard to conceive a deeper implan- 
tation of the principle of justness than he uni- 
formly exhibited. Who ever charged him with 
an act of injustice ? Who ever found his own 
reasonable claims disputed by him ? How 
conscientiously strict to enquire into all the 
circumstances of every case, that he might 
know all that was due ? How patient to hear, 
how impartial to weigh, how fair and honest 
to decide upon every old suggestion, every 
new consideration, which a neighbor felt dis- 
posed to urge ? Indeed, it may be said, with- 
out fear of contradiction, that he was accus- 
tomed through life to conduct and settle every 
successive transaction upon principles so every 
way just and fair, that the discovery of the 
slightest inequitableness perpetrated by him- 
self, would have distressed him until the en- 
tire affair had been most thoroughly examined 
and righteously arranged. 

The deceased was eminently modest. He 



21 

never spoke of himself, and never invited the 
commentary of another upon his performance. 
At the expense of style, he would write and 
re-write every word of his articles so as to ex- 
press the exact truth, but never a word did his 
heart suggest or substitute to win the praise 
of men. iS T o friend of the deceased could be 
more shocked than he would be by any man's 
affirmation that Mr. Hallock had assumed 
more than he was entitled to, or affected to be 
what, in truth, he was not. Through life he 
shunned the public eye, and was surprised and 
disconcerted by every honoring ascription. 
He sought to do his duty, and so seriously was 
this his one great aim, that few men were bold 
enough to venture a personal compliment in 
his presence. And yet he could be pleasant in 
view of some aspects of his self-abnegation. 
" I have been elected to-day to the very first 
office I ever held." "And pray what is that ?" 
said his friend. He very pleasantly replied : 
" A tithing -man in the South Church." 



22 

The deceased was eminently gentle. He was 
never boisterous, or forward, or rude. True, 
his manners were often cold, and sometimes a 
little petulant ; but who ever saw him in a 
passion ? or felt that his heart was malig- 
nant, or his tongue vituperative? On the 
contrary, his spirit was almost uniformly bland 
and placid ; his manner calm and gentle ; his 
habit, taciturn and retiring. To the poor he 
was always attentive and respectful ; to all men 
mild and courteous : amidst the prosperities of 
business just as simple and grave as ever ; in 
all the distressing pangs of his last illness, his 
silence was never broken by the first note of 
complaint, but now and then relieved by a 
look or a word that seemed to proceed from 
studied cheerfulness within. 

The deceased was eminently truthful. The 
all-dominant properties of his character, were 
simplicity, rectitude, and truth. He was cer- 
tainly a man of singular veracity. He never 
uttered or suppressed a word, never acted or 



23 

failed to act, to produce a false impression. 
The truth, the literal, exact truth, he ever 
studied to speak. He withheld nothing that 
truth demanded ; he did nothing to conceal the 
truth. To deceive his neighbor was the one 
thing he ever labored to avoid ; to present the 
truth perfectly, the one thing he ever sought 
to accomplish. 

The deceased was eminently kind. The poor 
know this. The Church of God knows this. 
And many a stranger knows this, who will 
never disclose to us the name of his benefactor 
till the judgment clay- Nor is this the only 
undiscovered field of his sympathy. Few men 
know that one of Mr. Hallock's peculiar eleva- 
tions above themselves lay in the fact that his 
benevolence was not confined to his race. If 
the numerous and diversified family of God's 
inferior creatures, who find a home round 
about his domicile from year to year, could 
manage to find a representative, they might 
experience a pleasing relief in bearing testi- 



24 

mony, that of all their fellow-creatures in this 
region of country, he was almost the only hu- 
man being who practically acknowledged a com- 
mon parentage with themselves. The insects, 
and reptiles would gratefully report that " when 
severe droughts threatened distress, and even 
destruction, our precious benefactor, with 
his own hands, would be sure to provide 
and to plant shallow receivers in every part of 
his premises, and would never forget to supply 
the same with that water which could be found 
nowhere else, though so indispensable to our 
comfort and our existence." The birds, too, 
would bear their happy testimony that — " in 
the spring of the year, when subjected else- 
where to such severe toil to find the proper 
soft, strong, and pliable material to make our 
nests, all around the premises of Mr. Hallock, 
convenient strips of suitable twine were scat- 
tered about upon the trees, the shrubs, and the 
fences, which greatly facilitated our labor, and 
braced, beautified, and perfected our little fam- 



25 

ily homes. And when, a few years ago, in 
mass we made him a responsive visit, in grate- 
ful remembrance of his annual contributions of 
bread and grain and twine, he recognized our 
common parentage, made a public record of our 
tuneful effort, and gave notice to men of the 
correspondence which exists between us." And 
ah ! that household pet who so loved to recline 
about his feet, and to occupy the soft cushion 
of his arm-chair when he left it — what a story 
he could tell ! Down to his dying day, though 
pressed into the grave by an almost unprece- 
dented complication of dreadful distempers, if 
our departed brother chanced to find his arm- 
chair occupied, he never would permit the 
occupant to be disturbed, no matter who might 
be present — but the hard chair he himself 
would endure, for hours if need be, until 
" Tom," unmolested, had finished his nap, 
and arisen and stretched himself, and delib- 
erately given place of his own accord ; and 
then, and not till then, would Mr. Hallock 



26 

resume his accustomed, his only comfortable 
seat. 

Finally, the deceased was eminently firm. 
While no man should say that he was ob- 
stinate or stubborn, he who ventured to deal 
unjustly or overbearingly with him would be 
very apt to find him just as inflexible as he 
should be. To stand by truth and justice cost 
him no effort, cost whatever else it might. To 
the one who ventured to suggest that he 
should change' the course of his editorials be- 
cause a multitude of his subscribers were giv- 
ing up their papers, he indignantly replied — 
" I do not consult my subscription list to find 
out my principles" One act indicative of 
his unyielding firmness — the most noble and 
exalted of his life as an act of devotion to 
principle, to what he believed to be the right 
— can never perish from the memory of the 
people or the records of the country, — the 
surrender of the editorship of the Journal of 
Commerce. That act, as such, shall go down 



27 

on the page of American history as the most 
distinguished memorial of a private citizen 
earned in our day. That calm, grand, and sol- 
emn editorial of August 31st, 1861, was a de- 
liverance in self-defence, — before the accusing, 
confronting authorities, — to the Grand Jury 
of the country and the world, — and in 
the presence of Almighty God, — which pro- 
claimed Gerard Hallock a man who, under a 
mandate regarded by him as despotism, could 
surrender his property, but not his principles ; 
who could part with his tastes, his habits, his 
calling, and his comforts, but not with his con- 
science. A splendid adherence to principle, 
which embodied more of Roman dignity, in- 
tegrity and intrepidity than one man in a 
generation has either the opportunity or the 
virtue to perform. That act, thus viewed, 
shall ever stand out by far the richest, 
loftiest legacy of which his family and his 
friends shall delight to boast. The solid virtue 
of this most noble act was fully sustained to 



28 

the last. Listen to these brave words con- 
cerning it, which fell from his lips some time 
previous to his death. " I have given up my 
business and half my property ; and I am ready 
to give up the remainder, if necessary, and — 
my life also." 

Honor to humanity ! It is a noble spec- 
tacle to see the ablest journals of the country, 
many of them hostile— -a part inexorably so, 
for the quarter of a century — marching up to 
Mr. Hallock's grave to endorse our very loftiest 
ascriptions to his character. 

Hark to a portion of that testimony : 

THE TRIBUNE. 

" His mistakes in politics never affected his personal in- 
tegrity, or caused any man to doubt the honesty of his 
convictions. 

THE TIMES. 

" One of the kindest-hearted men, generous to a fault, 
fond of doing good, ever the suggester and promoter of 
benevolence, his concealed charities boundless and unceas- 
ing. His long life was devoted to enterprise in the right 
direction ; and while differences in political and ecclesiasti- 
cal points may have at times led him into discussions with 
his fellows, his purity of life and general bearing of charity 
toward all were the notable features of his existence." 



29 



TIIE HERALD. 

" He had a mind of powerful cast, a clear and almost 
prophetic view of the state of the country and its political 
relations, a broad and comprehensive appreciation of men 
and events, a thorough knowledge of the world and the 
influences which sway its destinies, and a courage to do 
and maintain the right at whatever sacrifice." 

One more tribute. It is from the pen of 
editorial friendship. 

" Gerard Hallock was a Christian of no weak faith or 
uncertain walk, a Mend never to be distrusted, a man of 
noble heart, of kindliest sympathies, of child-like gentle- 
ness, a patriot, like whom would God we had a million 
more to-day. He has gone out of strife into a world where 
men are judged by no false witness. He has left a reputation 
to be admired and studied, and an influence which is limited 
in its extent only by the limit of American civilization." 

All these testimonials are thus endorsed by- 
one whose name and fame are co- extensive with 
our literature. 

"I knew Gerard Hallock well. I knew him early, inti- 
mately, and long, from his student days onward. I knew 
him as a scholar, a gentleman, a christian, and a patriot; 
and I say what such knowledge of him authorizes me to 
say, that a man of more modesty of intellect and manners, 
of more integrity, of purer or broader patriotism, or sincerer 
piety (so far as man can judge of that) is not often seen, — 
is nowhere seen, in my belief. His record is on high." 



30 



Brethren of the church ! what signal moral 
beauty, glory, and symmetry, pertain to the 
character of our ascended brother : so emin- 
ently simple, upright, modest, truthful, ben- 
evolent, and intrepid. And here let it be ob- 
served, that to do justice to the character of 
Mr. Hallock, it should be appreciated that the 
strength of immutability seems to pertain to 
the properties of his nature far more than to 
those of ordinary men. His virtues did not 
seem to lie loose upon the surface of his spirit, 
but to be fast anchored — nay, so ingrained, 
essentially, into the very texture of his soul — 
that his palpable impurity, or injustice, or 
immodesty, or untruthfulness, or unkindness, 
or imbecility, would seem to be an impossibil- 
ity from the very nature of the man. 

We have seen what a noble work for God 
and man our brother has been impowered to 
achieve. Should it surprise any man that such 
a character and such an intellect, indefatigably 
consecrated through a long and vigorous life, 



31 

has accomplished so much for the universal 
weal ? Or should it surprise any man that such 
a human being should be profoundly loved and 
honored by all who know him ? Oh ! what in 
this world should be appreciated if we are not 
to set a value upon talent, and virtue and toil, 
working political prosperity to the country, 
and ecclesiastical advancement of the Kingdom 
of Christ. 

When I look at Gerard Hallock living 
and Gerard Hallock dead, I feel summoned 
to call upon all men to give instant heed 
to the three great and simple examples 
which he has left for their imitation. Culti- 
vate your intellect assiduously all through life 
as he did ; that you may live for God and man. 
Cultivate your moral and religious character 
assiduously all through life as he did ; that 
you may live for God and man. And now, be 
sure to consecrate this intellect and character 
to the kingdom and crown of Christ, assiduously 
all through life as he did ; and though at the 



32 

last you may have your transient struggles, as 
did the master and the disciple, yet like them 
you shall soon cease from your labors and your 
good works shall follow you into the land of 
" pleasures for evermore." Observe now : 

I. The death of Gerard Hallock furnishes one 
of the sublimest exhibitions of Christ ian heroism 
on record in the Church of God. 

We beg leave to premise, that throughout 
his last illness, by the simple tests of scripture, 
the spectator could clearly discern the personal 
piety of the deceased. He saw that his con- 
viction of sin was profound ; his sorrow for sin 
godly ; his faith in Christ exclusive ; his sub- 
mission to God sincere. In a word, he dis- 
covered, with perfect precision, that every 
doctrine, feeling, and purpose essential to the 
principles of religion were as clearly domiciled 
in the soul of Mr Hallock as in the heart of 
the happiest Christian of his acquaintance. 

We premise again, that it pleased God for 
wise reasons, unrevealed to us, to deny to the 



33 

deceased the conscious comforts of Christianity. 
This is a common element of Christian expe- 
rience, and perfectly natural in this case. A 
gloomy temperament ; and a still more gloomy 
experience ; and both intensified by the most 
gloomy condition of his body, it was perfectly 
natural that he should be temporarily unable 
to discover anything good in himself, and per- 
fectly natural that he should disclaim its exis- 
tence. 

But there is a third point to which we beg 
leave to call your attention just here. Below 
consciousness there is an underlying surface of 
Christian experience. For though deprived at 
present of the positive consolations of the 
spirit, yet G-od and his religion are in the man. 
This constitutes an explanatory element indis- 
pensable to the* intelligent comprehension of 
the phenomena of the case, therefore it is, 
that though his faith as to himself has stag- 
gered, it has not fallen ; though it receives no 
outward light, it still holds on in the dark. 



34 

In view of the peculiar moral character and 
condition of the sufferer, we repeat, we are 
not surprised that he should never have felt 
the raptures, rarely the consolations of reli- 
gion ; nor that, just now, he is a stranger even 
to hope : nor that even this does not describe 
the extent of his bereavement. For observe, 
if you please, while unable to detect the pres- 
ence of religion in his soul, the absence of it 
must of course seem to him a matter of con- 
sciousness. Ever prompt to respond to those 
who enquired concerning his spiritual state, on 
one occasion in reply, he thus expressed him- 
self : " I know that he that believeth shall be 
saved ; but I have no faith. I know that he 
who is not regenerated must perish, and I 
have no evidence of regeneration." Such in 
substance was his laconic rerTly to every in- 
quiry. Thus, you perceive, like the master in 
his last days, it was arranged that the disciple 
too, in his, should be placed under the hidings 
of his Father's countenance, as if God-forsaken. 



35 

In this appalling state of abandonment what 
were his surroundings ? The King of Terrors 
was advancing hard upon him, sword in hand. 
This he knew. And Satan, who loves to worry 
whom he cannot destroy, and to take advan- 
tage of the crippled condition of his victim, 
doubtless rushed upon him like a giant, and 
plied his weary soul with that accursed troop 
of sore and fierce temptations whereby he had 
cowed and crushed his spirit through so many 
dark and bitter months of his life. " Thou art 
doomed." " The man that made not God his 
friend." " The man who is following the 
funeral of his own soul, and the grave thereof 
just at hand." " The great sinner whom a 
righteous God will like to damn." 

In that death chamber of Mr. Hallock — what 
a scene ! The sufferer all helpless and hope- 
less within ! An array of overwhelming, crush- 
ing adversaries at the very door! And how 
did he bear himself in this unequal, this porten- 
tous conflict ? He fixed his solemn eye upon 



36 

Death and Hell, and all their hideous retinue, 
and awaited their approach, to all appearance 
as composed and sustained as if that eye rested 
upon the opening gate of heaven. Yes ! all 
alive to his immortality, accountability, de- 
pravity, and condemnation : fully sensible of 
the nearness of death and retribution : and all 
unconscious of acceptance, and feeling, as he 
thought, the very frown of heaven ; yet such, 
after all, was his underlying confidence in the 
rectitude of God, and the truth of His word ; 
such his hold upon the great foundations all in 
the dark ; that not an act, or word, or thought, 
or tone indicated the very slightest agitation 
at any moment of his illness. He was just as 
calm and serene and self-poised as a man could 
be. He ever acted as if that were true, which 
he ever repeated to the day of his death, that 
he was but " half-sick." He went to the 
house of Grod just as long as he could ride in a 
vehicle. He read the Bible in family devotion 
just as long as he had the necessary voice. 



37 

He kneeled in prayer just as long as he could 
rise from his knees. He occupied his chair at 
the family table to the very meal before his 
death. Nor did he ever allow friend or kins- 
man to watch with him. No matter what the 
topic, secular or spiritual, yours or his, his 
conduct, his manners, his language, his tone 
were all just as easy and natural to the very 
moment of his death, as if the weight of a 
feather did not rest upon his mind. 

On the day of his death he announced in the 
morning his belief that he had transacted his 
last act of business ; consented during the day 
to an exchange of chambers from one on the 
second floor to another on the first ; and allow- 
ed himself to be assisted, at night, to walk out 
of the sitting-room into the chamber. Placed 
in an easy chair, with his feet on the footboard 
near the stove, and his limbs, which had been 
growing cold for hours, comfortably wrapped, 
he looked up and half cheerful said : " How com- 
fortable we all are here ! We have everything 



38 

to make us happy. How much better off than 
many poor people this cold night ! I would 
like to have you leave me alone for awhile ; I 
am very comfortable." Five minutes had 
scarcely elapsed, ere the family returned and 
found him on the floor in the act of dying. 
We know nothing here ; but the bystanders 
around his breathless body verily believe, 
that he solicited their absence because he knew 
he was near death, and neither wished to be 
confused by a sense of their presence, nor to 
pain them by the vision of the issue ; that hav- 
ing committed his soul to God, he deliberately 
closed his own eyes, and sank powerless to the 
floor. 

Most intensely oppressed by adverse truth ; 
yet as mightily sustained by inwrought, uncom- 
forted faith. What prodigious power is here ! 
Quiet endurance without seeming support, 
under pressure almost infinite. Oh, what 
resplendent heroism ! ! Where in all this 
world will you find a courage like this ? Behold 



39 

that grand army, in double quick rushing up to 
storm formidable works. They know that in 
the space of one single minute, the half of them 
must go down in the roar of the conflict, yet 
on they rush ; what courage here ? And yet 
the similar courage of a thousand just such 
armies would not supply the necessities of Mr. 
Hallock's death chamber. He thought, he 
knew, he ever felt that in his own soul he had 
more at stake than the lives of half the bodies 
of a thousand grand armies. And see ! in a 
sense — nay! to his very consciousness — it 
seemed as if all was lost. And yet, that man 
was so calm, and to the very last could talk 
about the matter with infinite composure ! ! 
Oh ! the power, and the value, and the dignity, 
and the heroism of our blessed Christianity ! 
And oh ! the omnipotent grace which God 
vouchsafes to a feeble creature, at the very mo- 
ment when blinded nature feels that grace 
would scorn to notice his most piteous suppli- 
cation ! 



40 

II. The peculiarities of Mr. Hallock's natural 
temperament and religious experience furnish 
a relieving exposition respecting the peculiarities 
of his social habits and manners. 

It must be acknowledged, that in some re- 
spects he was one of the most unsocial and 
solitary of the human family. He was rarely 
ever known to seek the society of a fellow 
man or make a social call upon a friend. One 
solitary visit in forty years is all that is noted 
in the family register. His manners, too, it 
must be confessed, in general were singularly 
grave and cold, taciturn and incommunicative. 

If I mistake not, his temperament and experi- 
ence had much to do in the construction of these 
peculiarities. 

From his very youth he displayed a retiring, 
poetic, sombre constitution. The subjects of 
his compositions in college indicate this fact. 
Listen to the catalogue : " A Reverie among the 
Tombs," "Mayhew's Grave," "Autumn," "The 
Yale of Years," &c. The sentiments that per- 



41 

vade these productions confirm the judgment 
expressed. You will be assured of this, if you 
but peruse the first sentences of these compo- 
sitions, without explanation, as they stand 
casually arranged in a book by a friend. 

" My harp is broken, and my lyre unstrung ; 
My years are fled, my hopes in sackcloth hung ; 
And earth is pall'd in sadness, and its bloom 
Is but the flower that blossoms o'er the tomb." 

Again. — 

"Ah me ! How soon the bloom of friendship fades ! 
My dearest joys, oblivion's gloomy shades 
Have curtained from me." 

Again,— 

" To a feeling heart there is something inexpressibly ten- 
der in the whispers of Autumn. It is a season which no one 
can approach without emotion, and none can pass through 
without feeling how transient and how perishable are the 
charms of earth." 



Again, — 



" Oh ! how I bleed when pensively I tread 
'Long the dread confines of the dead ; 
Where lone and sad the weeping willows wave 
O'er the dark regions of the insatiate grave." 



42 

Again, — 

" Oh hopeless, dismal state, to be confined 
To this vile clay and this still viler mind ! 
Why chain me thus to my own mouldering corpse, 
Which, oniy to behold, my senses warps 
Into distraction 1 'Tis an awful doom ! 
Yet I could bear the horrors of a tomb — 
Corpse, winding sheet, and all the ghastly forms 
That dance their orgies dire to reveling worms, 
Were this my only destiny : — but oh ! 
The plague and torment of a heart of woe." 

These are the first sentences of compositions, 
not selected, but just as they succeed each 
other on the record. How clearly they reveal 
a melancholy chord in the very structure of 
the man. His sensibilities, like the strings of 
an iEolian harp, were touched by the slightest 
breath of mortal sorrow, and filled the posses- 
sor with the mournful strains of their every 
vibration. The fact is, this vein of constitu- 
tional pensiveness overspreads and tinges all 
the effusions of his mind, and stands out, the 
capital, distinguishing feature of his entire 
correspondence, as well as of his fugitive pro- 
ductions. We shall cite but one illustration. 



43 

In a letter to a friend, just after graduating, 
he says : 

" Mr. E., is just such another secluded mortal as I am. 
We have a grove about a mile from the Academy that is 
really a solitary haunt. We usually visit it in the decline 
of day. A solemn stillness reigns, save the chattering of a 
multitude of moaning night birds that resort here as a re- 
treat from the eye of man. It is closed from the face of 
day by a multitude of pines that overhang a spot where no 
flower ever blooms, and no plant ever receives the radiance 
of the sun. Here, retired from the din and hurry of life, 
we ponder on our nature, our duty and our destination." 

Observe now, whatever morbid, sombre, 
gloomy temper nature gave him, his religious 
convictions could not fail to darken. Oh, the 
fearful images that haunted him through life ! 
He has been heard to say, as already stated, 
that for a long time he was oppressed with the 
conviction that "the very atmosphere was 
gloomy ;" that he himself was a doomed man ; 
that every step he took on earth, was a tread- 
ing in the funeral of his soul ; that every human 
being that threw his eyes upon him on his way 
to perdition, would point and say, — "There 



44 

goes the man who made not God his friend." 
The strongest feelings of man on earth are the 
outworkings of God's truth on his soul. Such 
terrible images as abode upon Mr. Hallock's 
spirit ; such dreadful anathemas as ever rung 
in his ears, must have stirred the hardest soul 
to its lowest foundations ; how much more the 
subject of such dark and tender sensibility ! 
Had he been a man of social nature, who could 
have thrown out his inmost thoughts and feel- 
ings upon his friends, and taken home their 
diluting meditations and their relieving views, 
it might have mitigated the severity of the 
infliction. Not so that sombre, lonely being, 
who shares his thoughts with none ; but with 
intensest, ever-during contemplation holds up 
those terrific forms within, to frown their 
dark and harrowing power down to the pro- 
foundest depths of the soul. Oh, if there is 
a wretched man on earth, you have found him 
now ! Who, who can doubt for an instant that 
such a constitution and such an experience are 



45 

the necessary parents of a solitaire ? Such a 
man must be unsocial in his habits ; unsocial in 
his manners. That morbid, melancholy, smit- 
ten spirit, ever listening to the echoings of 
such terrific curses and maddening forebodings 
in the dark caverns of his soul, — how can 
such a mortal endure society. Most assuredly 
solitude is the only possible refuge of such a 
spirit. The last thing such a man can do is to 
break away from his accursed tormentors, and 
the last thing he would do is to share his sor- 
rows with another. Ingraft, therefore, the 
very slightest truth on the constitution of the 
unhappy man, and he must meet every one 
on earth with a gravity that would chill him ; 
and he must part with him at sight, lest he be 
forced to lie by pretending an interest which 
he does not feel in any topic that may be 
presented. 

We commend to you, brethren, the lesson 
we deduce from these reflections. Mr. Hal- 
lock's unsocial habits and manners are, in a 



46 

measure, the philosophical result of his mor- 
bid constitution and his afflicting convictions. 
Now, if any man has been accustomed in his 
own mind to ascribe his unsociableness to a 
proud, unfeeling, or selfish disposition, let him 
read here that inner history which his own 
delicacy would never have revealed, and from 
this hour let him do justice, and vindicate an 
innocent and afflicted fellow being from his 
own past unrighteous accusations. Above all, 
let the world deeply honor the departed when 
they reflect that instead of being driven by 
the assassins of his peace to intemperance, 
insanity, or suicide, he has, all through life, 
commanded himself with such perfection of 
intelligence and benevolence, that while on 
the one hand he has trodden the wine press 
alone, and never troubled a human being to 
share his sorrows ; on the other he has man- 
aged to accomplish his great life-work to gen- 
eral satisfaction under all the heavy disadvan- 
tages of crippled peace and powers. 



47 

III. If the dark side of Mr. Hallock's nature 
advances claims to be relieved from the unjust 
imputations it may have awakened, its brighter 
side will be sure to minister a pleasing surprise 
to many ivho may never have imagined its beau- 
tiful and touching features. 

In passing through life, Mr. Hallock's frigid 
exterior, — rather his unsympathizing sur- 
face, — to say the least, left him but very 
inadequately understood of men. It is due 
to G-od, the world, and the man, that an effort 
should be made to set him before his race 
somewhat as he was. In making a momentary 
effort in this direction, we must beg leave, 
first of the spirit of our departed brother, then 
of his family and the public, in this extraordi- 
nary case to be allowed to trespass a little 
beyond the ordinary limits of family privacy, — 
we almost fear of delicate propriety, — to reach 
those warm affections, beautiful sympathies, 
virtuous aspirations, noble promptings, saga- 
cious hits, and a thousand other charming things 



48 

which abounded wherever his pen carried out 
the workings of his heart to his kindest and 
most intimate friends. Our simple method 
shall be to throw before you in his own words, 
and in unexplained connection, a continuous 
succession of these lovely exhibitions of his 
brighter side as we shall find them scattered 
through his private correspondence and fugi- 
tive productions. 

li I anticipated much satisfaction in visiting with you, my 
brother, the seats of our childhood and recounting the sim- 
ple and interesting annals of our morning years. There is 
something grateful in looking back upon the innocence of 
childhood — so cheerful — so happy — so indiscreet — so prone 
to feed on ideal bliss, and yet with us so guarded and 
sanctified by the watchfulness of our dear parents. Few, 
very few, my brother, have such cause for thankfulness in 
view of family concerns as we have." 

To a brother in England : 

" I shall think of you as sustained and soothed by the 
nearest, kindest, and best of earthly comforters. It is true 
I have not the means of knowing definitely the precise 
value of the prize you have drawn ; but from the fact of its 
being that which a wise man has chosen, I cannot doubt 
but it has made you rich indeed. I should want no better 



49 



recommendation of a woman, as far as it goes, than her 
willingness to embark on a 3,000 or 4,000 miles voyage, 
leaving her delightful shores and friends behind, in order 
that she might benefit and bless the ignorant and perishing. 
As you have entered on this new relation without counsel 
from your American friends, so I suppose you are not very 
anxious whether they approve or disapprove of the course 
you have taken. Nevertheless, I shall make bold to say, 
that, so far as I know, we heartily concur in the wisdom of 
your choice, and wish that a thousand blessings may rest 
upon you and your partner. I know the state upon which 
you have entered is infinitely promotive of human happiness. 
Were I alone in life, instead of being a husband and a 
father, I would embrace the first fair opportunity of binding 
myself in these silken chains. All that a miserable Ccelebs 
anticipates of cares and troubles in the married state, is a 
dream of his own imagination; for these very cares and 
troubles, shared in so endearing a connection, are converted 
into pleasure." 

On parting with a friend, he throws out 
this passionate burst : 

" I sometimes exclaim in a kind of agony, ' cruel fate ! 
that should thus tear me from my best friends.' I have 
but few friends on earth; but those few are dearer to me 
than life. Be assured that, whether living or dying, I am 
your sincere but unworthy friend." 

To his wife : 

" There is no. where on earth to be compared with the 
peaceful shelter of my home." — " How happy you and I are 



50 



in our home life. If we look over the past, scarcely a 
breath has ruffled the surface of our social relations. Now 
I know the stubbornness of my own disposition too well — 
yes, and my excitability too, not to understand to whom 
this beautiful harmony and love are, under God, to be at- 
tributed. You have never undertaken to rule, me ; and yet 
by keeping within your own sphere you have ruled me even 
as you listed. I wish a thousand other women might un- 
derstand this secret of a wife's supremacy. It is all told 
in some of the Epistles, but how few women, comparatively, 
so read as to understand." 

" « Your hope in Jesus ! ' I know of nothing on earth 
which could have given me such unmingled satisfaction. 
And I desire to thank God for his mercy vouchsafed in 
your behalf. In some respects we have been unfortunate, 
but how little do these things appear when contrasted 
with the amazing interests of the soul. I rejoice with 
you, and ever will rejoice, in what Jesus has, as we 
humbly trust, done for you ; and my fervent desire is 
that I may be like you as far as you bear the image of the 
Saviour." 

" But God has been better to us than our fears ; yes, 
better than our hopes ; and after what He has done for 
you, may He not do the same for me? I feel that I need 
His salvation ; that He is infinitely worthy of my love, and 
that I am wholly unworthy of His favorable notice." 

" My home is now more desirable to me by far than ever, 
since it is consecrated by the Christian's affections and the 
Christian's hope." " We have lived together many years 



51 

very happily, and I hope more are in reserve for us." " I 
am these days very cheerful and very sad. I feel all the 
time as if I owed a thousand thanks for the mercy mani- 
fested to you, but I rejoice with sorrow for what I know and 
feel in regard to myself." " I want that you should not 
give me up as reprobate, nor be discouraged by anything 
I have said, from dropping your sweet words of piety in my 
ears, and placing them before my eyes, as often as you 
please. There is no knowing which shall prosper, this or 
that. And furthermore, it is pleasant to me in itself. I 
hope it is to you." " It is something that I can have your 
prayers, and that I can know there is at least one in this 
world who cares for my soul. I wish I could join you in 
your path to the Heavenly Canaan. I feel I have lived 
long enough in this way, and have no desire to live longer 
unless I can live better, save for the single purpose of pro- 
viding for and loving my family and being loved by them." 

To his child : 

"My Dear Daughter : I write you this line to tell you 
how sorry I am that I spoke to you so harshly when you en- 
tered the carriage on Monday morning. I must learn to be 
more gentle, even if I am hurried. I should have said some- 
thing like this : • Now, my child, I am afraid you will be dis- 
appointed. You have got into the carriage expecting to ride 
to school with me ; but I am obliged to go in the opposite 
direction on business. Next Monday morning I shall hope 
to have the pleasure of your company.' You will learn 
from my example, how bad it is to be impatient, and how 
uncomfortable it is to others. I hope my child will culti- 



52 



vate the opposite virtue, and that her father will clo like- 
wise. I suppose as you see Thomas plowing the garden, 
and James beginning to plant, you are thinking about your 
garden also. You must have a little spot whieh ycu can 
call yours, where you can plant or set out what you please, 
and see the plants grow, and call them your own. But 
you also have a full interest, in common with the rest of 
the family, in all the garden, trees and grounds, and I trust 
you will enjoy yourself much in running about and hearing 
the birds sing, and swinging. I hope to see you again next 
Saturday, in which case perhaps we shall find time to take 
a little walk together, and see the oxen, and the bird's nest." 

To a relative : 

" My little Caroline went to sleep (for to nothing else could 
it be so aptly compared,) on Sabbath evening at a quarter 
past six, and was buried yesterday afternoon. Her sick room 
afforded such an example of meekness, patience and sub- 
mission, amidst great weakness, and for some days extreme 
suffering, as is scarcely ever seen. She had her reason to 
the last, and her little corpse looked so sweet and lovely 
that one would have almost wanted to kiss it. I feel a 
degree of confidence that she is safe in the arms of the 
Saviour, many of whose traits of character as a man she so 
closely imitated. Those who have associated with her 
most intimately and freely, think she has been a Christian 
for months. She was asked what she must do in order to 
go to heaven. She answered, she must love Jesus Christ 
and obey his commandments, or to that effect : and then 
added, " I hope I do love him some." She has for many 



53 

months past expected to be very short lived. A little 
before she was taken with her last sickness, noticing the 
birds on the trees close by, something was said about their 
soon leaving us. The remark was added, " but they will 
come back next spring," and my Caroline said, "but I shall 
not be here," and after a pause, " nor at mamma's house. I 
shall be in my little grave in the burying ground." 

We trust we have laid before you extracts 
from his correspondence in sufficient variety 
and extent to reveal this fact : that he at heart 
was an impassioned friend and a loving hus- 
band and father ; that he had a passionate ad- 
miration of the sweets of home, and a shrewd 
vision of the Ways of Providence; in a word, 
that he was a gifted man, so gentle, modest, and 
just ; so sombre, and yet so sprightly ; that 
could you have penetrated the shell his mel- 
ancholy mood had built around him, you 
yourself might have found in the brighter, 
inner features of his character, just such a 
fellow-man as you should have delighted to 
record your nearest neighbor and your bosom 

friend. 

5 



54 

IV. Mr. Hallock's experience was in itself 
pre-eminently Christian, and to his friends 
should be profoundly consoling. 

It is proper to premise, that the ministers 
of the gospel who visited him during his last 
days had abundant opportunities of personal 
* conversation with the deceased, and that he 
always expressed his feelings with the utmost 
freedom and distinctness. Nor should it be 
forgotten, that he knew his own religious con- 
sciousness as definitely, and could express it as 
perspicuously, as almost any man knew and 
could explain his. When, therefore, the attend- 
ing ministers declare that he possessed this and 
that defined religious feeling, every one must 
decide for himself in the premises the degree 
of confidence which should be reposed in that 
testimony. 

In their judgment, the dying experience of 
Mr. Hallock, in its type, was the dying expe- 
rience of his Master. Jesus felt Himself for- 
saken of God. As a man, so did His humble 



55 

disciple. Under this desertion Jesus only held 
the more tenaciously to God. As a man, so 
did this humble disciple. Through all His 
conflict Jesus submitted Himself reverently to 
the will of God. As a man, so did this hum- 
ble disciple. Finally, from duty to duty, 
apparently uncheered, Jesus passed on into 
the presence of God. As a man, so we trust, 
did this humble disciple. 

The dying experience of Mr. Hallock exhib- 
ited exact conformity to the conditions pre- 
scribed by Christ to secure his blessing. On 
a distinguished occasion, said Jesus Christ : 
" Blessed are the poor in spirit ; " — honest self- 
abasement for sin ( against God. If we knew 
the state of his mind, this was one of the 
strong feelings of his soul. " Blessed are they 
that mourn ; " — deep grieving of soul for neg- 
lect and disobedience of a righteous and mer- 
ciful Father. If we knew the state of his 
mind, this was one of his deepest convictions. 
" Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after 



56 

righteousness ;" — strong desires for righteous- 
ness for its own sake, and because due to Glod. 
If we understood his feelings, this was one of 
the sincerest longings of his soul. Now, if 
Mr. Hallock's dying experience bore such 
marked resemblance to that of his Master, and 
involved such ample compliance with the pre- 
scribed conditions of His blessing, surely we are 
warranted in saying that his experience was 
pre-eminently Christian. 

It may surprise unreflecting men, it is 
nevertheless true, that Mr. Hallock's exercises 
in their nature give the very strongest evidence 
of religion which it is in the power of man to 
exhibit. Like David in the Psalms, our de- 
parted brother, in all his desolation, seems to 
stand before God, and substantially press this 
most solemn plea: "My Maker, blot out all 
lights, cut down all comforts, strike away all 
props, inflict all curses, and brand reprobation 
upon my very soul, so that I shall seem to 
taste the bitter doom ; still I cannot, cannot 



57 

give thee up. I have nothing, to fall back 
upon. Nothing that I love, — nothing that I 
want, — nothing that can fill my soul, or cheer 
my heart. I have been put out of sympathy 
with everything on earth as a chief good. 
Nothing suits my great relations, — nothing 
meets the solemn demands of my moral na- 
ture. My G-od, I cannot let thee go. Thou 
art my all in all. Abandon, afflict, accurse, 
slay me, — yet will I trust in Thee. A wreck 
and a wretch without Thee, ah, whither, 
whither shall I go ? Oh my G-od and Saviour ! 
while I have any being I must cling to thee, 
to thee only, to the bitter end." Regenera- 
tion puts the soul out of vital sympathy with 
creation, into vital sympathy with God, and 
when roused and put into desperate straits, it 
must act precisely as described above. And 
observe ; nothing but regeneration can act so, 
and therefore nothing can so triumphantly 
prove regeneration. Every other species of 
Christian evidence must have something joy- 



58 

ous about it. Now nature loves to be joyous, 
and in these cases this may be all that is loved. 
But everything that nature loves is stormed 
away from Mr. Hallock's soul, and nothing, 
nothing therefore, but naked Christian princi- 
ple, could hold on at such a time. As yon oak 
on the mountain crag, which, though stripped 
and dismantled in its fearful wrestle with the 
tempest, still, stands firmly rooted, — anchored 
to the rock. 

We have not discussed this point to brace 
up Mr Hallock's Christian character. It need- 
ed no support. That splendid, old fashioned, 
orthodox, Calvanistic account of his experience, 
left us in his own hand-writing,* in these days 
is a rare and ample evidence of his personal in- 
terest in the religion of the Lord Jesus. " By 
their fruits ye shall know them." Fourteen 
years ago he united with this church, under the 
fervent, faithful ministry of its first pastor, Rev. 

* See Appendix. 



59 

J. C. Stiles, D. D., and ever since his blameless, 
spiritual walk and conversation have been 
a Christian testimony which needs no confir- 
mation. No ! It was rather for the comfort of 
his friends that we called up these thoughts. 
Many persons, not deeply learned in the ele- 
ments, action, and evidence of true religion, 
forgetting that Jesus Christ Himself had an ex- 
perience of which this disciple's was an almost 
exact counterpart, would be very apt to be 
made unhappy and hopeless by the seeming 
comfortless gloom of his last days. Profound 
consolation, rather, they should assuredly feel 
in view of two truths — his experience was pre- 
eminently Christian, and the very strongest 
type and style of Christianity earth shall ever 
know. 

Brethren and sisters, and friends of this 
church and congregation ! I come to your 
relief at last. You have enjoyed all this at- 
tempted tribute to the work and worth of our 



60 

friend. And you have rejoiced to have the 
world stand by and give heed to these solid 
testimonials of his exalted character. But you 
have felt, too, that you have long sustained a 
far warmer, closer relation to the departed 
than the world can claim, and are not content 
therefore to yield only a formal respect to his 
memory. You demand now, to be allowed to 
come nearer to cur honored, sainted brother. 
But where is the evidence ? Where the bond? 
Where the monument of his peculiar relation 
to you ? Here it is, brethren ! This noble 
edifice ! 

"He hath loved our nation and built us a 
synagogue" 

Christianity is the fountain head of all good 
to man, — individual, national, universal. Ab- 
stract from any people all the good they have 
received from Christianity, and that nation is 
doomed. Impart the blessings of true religion 
to every inhabitant of a nation, and that peo- 
ple you glorify. Piety, therefore, is the per- 



61 

fection of patriotism. Christianity, remember, 
works out its redeeming effects through a 
church and its ordinances. He, therefore, who 
discreetly builds a synagogue, is the prince of 
patriots. 

But it has been said that Mr. Hallock built 
this sanctuary for earthly gain, — to magnify 
the value of his adjacent land. He always said 
that this charge would be tabled ; but added, 
" if the accuser knew my business as well as I 
do, he would not risk his accusation." Time 
has proved the man impeached the wiser 
financier. One hundred and nineteen thou- 
sand dollars have already been expended upon 
the enterprise. Had this sum, with the conse- 
crated thought and toil of fourteen years, been 
otherwise invested, the issue, all must see, 
would have verified his prediction, and he 
would have lived and died a richer man. 

Mr. Hallock, his bitterest enemies now ad- 
mit, was an eminently honest and truthful man. 
What account does he give of his own motives 



62 

in the erection of the church? A Christian 
brother, witnessing an exhibition of his splendid 
liberality, after a momentary pause, thus ad- 
dressed him : " You have two things to be 
thankful for, which, jointly, bless but few men : 
a large purse, and a large heart in the disburse- 
ment of it." With his accustomed philosophic 
gravity, he thus responded : " From my boy- 
hood I have observed that every man grew 
covetous in proportion as he grew rich, if he 
did not keep giving. I am making money and 
must give it." Observe now, he affirmed to 
his friends that one motive which influenced 
him to build the church, was self-protection ; 
to defend the liberalities of his natural heart 
against the choking grasp of approaching 
covetousness. 

Above all unconverted men we ever knew, 
he felt, spoke, acted, and aimed most like a 
Christian. He was always a great Sabbath- 
keeping, church-going man. Between his own 
home and the central city church which he 



63 

attended on every Sabbath, he had seen so 
much desecration of the day, so many children 
running wild in the streets, that he naturally 
felt that it would be an unspeakable blessing 
to establish a good Christian church in these 
then neglected outskirts of the city. Observe 
again! Mr. Hallock always stated to.his friends 
that another motive which actuated him in the 
erection of the church was, love to his neigh- 
bors. 

Right or wrong, Mr. Hallock had long be- 
lieved that the primitive piety of New England 
was somewhat on the wane : that the old- 
fashioned, simple, orthodox preaching of his 
father, uncle, and the men of their day, urging 
steadily and passionately the distinguishing 
doctrines of the gospel, had given way to a 
degenerate exhibition of God's message, which 
travels out too far from the heart of Chris- 
tianity to matters more external, and imports 
indiscreetly into the sanctuary the fires of po- 
litical and fanatical excitement. With many 



64 

other men, he verily believed that another kind 
of Gospel presentation — one that would keep 
close to the great central doctrines, and fire up 
on these, and rather close the door against the 
unwholesome foreign fires of the day, would 
work, both in its direct and exemplary influ- 
ence, a vast advantage to the cause of Christ. 
Observe once more ! Mr. Hallo ck always af- 
firmed to his friends, that, with him, a third 
object of his church erection, was the glory of 
God in the dissemination of a purer gospel. 
We reaffirm, — he was a man to be believed ; 
especially when he stands in God's house, be- 
fore the officers of God's church. It was under 
these solemn circumstances that you heard him 
on the last Sabbath* bear testimony to the 
deep religious workings of his soul respecting 
this very matter of the building of the church. 

" I saw the walls of the Church going up, with the feel- 
ing that I was precisely in the condition of Noah's carpen- 
ters, who were building an ark for the salvation of others, 

*See Appendix. 



65 

but were themselves to be lost. I believe, as nearly as I 
can analyze my feelings at that time, I was glad to have 
others saved, even if I must be lost." 

Thus, on multiplied occasions, he has borne 
witness that he built this church to accomplish 
these three ends, viz : — to shield his own heart 
from covetousness ; to give his destitute neigh- 
bors the blessings of a convenient, christian 
church ; and, with all the solemnity of the 
presence of his Maker, to give God glory in the 
salvation of men. He, then, whose profane 
tongue styles this sacred house, " the church of 
the Holy Compromise," " the land specula- 
tion," would do well to ponder the doom of him 
who " offends one of these little ones." 

Have the objects of the builder in the con- 
struction of the church been accomplished ? 
Thank G-od ! from the day of its dedication 
it has been a church of revivals. What human 
thought can compass the blessings which G-od 
hath seemed to distribute through the instru- 
mentality of this enterprise ! How many chris- 



66 

tian professors, through its services and influ- 
ence, have been preserved from backsliding 
and declension; have been edified, sanctified 
and comforted ; have been kept in a state of 
prayer and faith and daily duty ; and have here 
found a field of helpful christian effort, been 
upheld under trial, and finally, matured for 
heaven ! How many children have been gath- 
ered into the Sabbath school, and youth into 
the Bible class, and been instructed, restrain- 
ed, advised, and received that well-laid founda- 
tion on which God's saving work shall be built 
ere long ! Yes ! And how many sinners, we 
have reason to hope, have been converted to 
God and eternally saved ! Oh ! who can speak 
the holy consolations, the heavenly fellowship 
we have enjoyed in this church, especially in 
seasons of revival ! Nor have we alone receiv- 
ed the blessings of this sacred enterprise. For 
glad we are that our noble benefactor has had 
his share in the smiles of God upon us. Con- 
trary to his dark forebodings, unlike Noah's 



67 

builders, he did find salvation in the ark he 
built. Like his brothers and sisters, he too 
has ever found a pure, increasing satisfaction 
in all the services of this house of God, much 
more than any mortal knew. 

But we are here to-day to record the fact 
that our great friend, our precious benefactor, 
is no more. Our solemn, modest, pure, dear 
Mr. Hallock has left us for the eternal world. 
We shall see him no more at our weekly meet- 
ings for social prayer. We shall see him no 
more every Sabbath, moving with measured 
step up this middle aisle as solemn as Moses on 
his way to the summit of Sinai. We shall be- 
hold him no more seated in yonder pew, with 
reverence so stern that from the founding of 
the church he has never been known on a single 
occasion to turn his head, to look upon a face, 
or to trace a sound. We shall meet him no 
more at yonder sacred table where we so often 
fed upon the bread of life together. Oh yes ! 
our great friend, our patron brother, is gone! 



68 

and who will take his place ? To help us, who 
so wise, so kind, so vigilant, so firm, so strong 
as he ? If we rarely heard him, surely we ever 
felt him. For he was our peace, and under 
his wings did we trust. He was our glory, 
and at our head we felt honored. But he is 
gone, and who, who we ask shall fill his place ? 
Already we begin to dream that we feel the 
foundations shaking beneath us, and see the 
heavens blackening above us. What ! are all 
these sacred privileges insecure ? All this rich 
fellowship, these endearing consolations, these 
cherished hopes, this valued accustomed plat- 
form for Christian work — like him is none left 
now to throw his wing over us and all our holy 
blessings, and uphold when days of storm and 
sorrow come ? Hearken, oh my people, hearken 
to the one only voice of consolation, " Fear 
not, for / am with thee ; be not dismayed, for 
/ am thy God ; / will strengthen thee ; yea I 
will help thee ; yea, / will uphold thee with the 
right hand of my righteousness." I solemnly 



69 

proclaim this present Christian trust in GTod 
Himself the one only lesson of our salvation at 
this sorrowful crisis. We must now put God 
in the place of man, and in His own far higher 
place. We must learn to expect far more from 
our unseen Father above than we ever receiv- 
ed from our earthly father here. Alas ! we 
may have been destroying our power to trust 
in God, by cherishing too happy a confidence 
in man. 

Though it cost severest grief, on this solemn 
day let us learn this only saving lesson. God 
has taken our loved and loving brother. Here, 
then, in the house he built, his own appro- 
priate monument ; on the confines of that nar- 
row house where we so lately laid his precious 
dust; in vivid memory of all we have so long 
enjoyed with him in happy Christian fellow- 
ship ; just here and now, we will heartily 
give him up, and let him go. And here 
and now we do most humbly covenant, 
that from this sad hour we will struggle to 



70 

give God in our affections the highest place, 
and in all our coming trials the truest trust ; 
while the memory of our dear brother we 
will enshrine in our inmost souls, and to his 
sainted spirit bid a solemn, tender, farewell, — 
farewell ! 



The following relation of Christian experience has been referred to 
in the Discourse. It was originally prepared and read by Mr. Hallock 
to the Committee of the Church. He did not himself feel that he had 
such evidence of regeneration as would justify an application for 
admission to Christian communion. He was, however, induced by his 
pastor to ask advice of his brethren, and accordingly gave to them this 
account of his spiritual state. It was found among his papers after his 
death, and was read at his funeral. The insight into his inner life 
which it furnishes, justifies its presentation here. 



APPENDIX 



Like most other persons religiously educated, I have, 
almost from my infancy, experienced seasons of special 
religious awakening;— sometimes my mind has been deeply 
impressed, and I have seemed to myself not far from the 
kingdom of God. 

In looking back to such periods, I can see, I think, that 
I was always secretly relying upon something which I had 
done or could do, as a ground of my acceptance, — and never, 
under a proper sense of my own vileuess, casting myself 
wholly upon the mercy of God in Jesus Christ. Conse- 
quently, instead of being regenerated, as I might have 
been, had it not been for my own self-reliance, I always 
lost my impressions, after days or weeks or months, and 
became as careless and indifferent as ever to the concerns 
of my soul. 

With the progress of years, and the cares of the world, 
these seasons of awakening became less frequent, and in 
general, less powerful. I was sometimes alarmed to see 
how deeply I was sunk in worldliness, and how I seemed to 
be abandoned by the Holy Spirit, without whose influences 
I knew I never should be converted. In the meantime, 
there grew up in my mind a conscious alienation from God, 
together with a kind of remorse, and a feeling that God 

6* 



74 

would like to damn me, by way of retributive vengeance. 
In this state of mind I was, when a revival took place in 
Rev. Mr. Strong's congregation, with which I was then 
connected, — I think it was in the winter of 184S-9. It had 
no effect upon me at first, except to bring out my latent 
enmity. I attended none of the meetings, except the two 
regular services on the Sabbath, — until one Sabbath noon, 
one of the Deacons called at my house, and spoke to me 
plainly, though kindly, about my soul. I heard what he 
said, but replied in monosyllables, and was glad when he 
was gone. I then felt determined not to attend to the subject 
of religion at that time, and I felt a sort of desperation, 
which disposed me to postpone the whole subject to an un- 
certain future, whatever the consequences might be. In 
this fearful and Heaven provoking way, my mind became 
roused, and I began to see that I was probably lost. The 
very atmosphere seemed gloomy, and there was constantly 
before my mind, for days, if not weeks, the idea of my own 
funeral from my own pleasant home, after having enjoyed 
more than my share of the good things of this life, — a 
wretched outcast from God, with the feeling deep in the 
minds of the spectators, and by some perhaps expressed, — 
" This is the man that made not God his friend." I knew 
that these dreadful words were applicable to my case; and 
they rung in my ears from day to day. At length my alarm 
gradually subsided, and was succeeded by a calm, in which 
I remember to have felt a strong desire to be good, pure, 
and Christ-like. This continued for some days. As I 
never had had such feelings before, the thought crossed my 
mind that possibly — just possibly — this was conversion. I 
however did not allow myself to hope, and expressed no 



75 

hope to others. Indeed no person knew the state of my 
mind with any exactness, nor do I suppose any one was 
aware that I had been so deeply interested on the subject 
of religion. I continued my daily reading of the Bible and 
prayer for several months, and then dropped both, except 
occasionally, — finding them irksome and uncongenial to my 
wicked heart. For nearly a year prior to Dr. Stiles' coming 
to New Haven, I had scarcely ever attempted to pray. I 
saw the walls of the church going up, with the feeling that 
I was precisely in the condition of Noah's carpenters, who 
were building an ark for the salvation of others, but were 
themselves to be lost. I believe, as nearly as I can analyze 
my feelings at that time, I was glad to have others saved, 
even if I must be lost. Dives in the parable had a similar 
desire. 

When Dr. Stiles and Rev. Mr. Sawtell came to New 
Haven with reference to the dedication of the new Church, 
in June 1852, they both made my house their home. I 
was struck with the very serious manner in which they 
treated the matter, praying over it again and again, publicly 
and privately. My impressions of the great moral differ- 
ence that existed between those men and myself, were also 
strong. Dr. Stiles once remarked to me that the manner 
in which we should dedicate that church, might, and prob- 
ably would, have a decided bearing upon its usefulness, as 
long as its walls should stand. I however felt that I could 
not enter into his spirit, — that I could do nothing towards 
devoting the church to Christ, except to give the use of its 
walls to those who might wish to occupy them, — and I was 
painfully conscious of a moral deadness, coldness, and aliena- 
tion from God. But I did not yet attempt to come to any 



76 

better state of mind — I did not pray — I had not done so 
for months ! One day Dr. Stiles told me he wanted pretty 
soon to have a plain conversation with me on the subject 
of personal religion ; at the same time giving me to under- 
stand that he suspected I was a Christian. I told him I 
should be happy to talk with him, but if he expected to find 
anything good in me, he would be greatly disappointed. 
One Sabbath evening, I think, he spent half an hour in a 
kind inquiry as to my state of mind ; and when he ascer- 
tained it, he presented to me God as a kind Father, and 
myself as a wayward, undutiful child; he showed how 
ready and anxious that kind Father was to receive me into 
his arms, notwithstanding my far wanderings, and what He 
had done to render it possible to receive me, consistently 
with His justice, honor, truth, the equity of His administra- 
tion and the welfare of His universe. This conversation 
was admirably fitted to my hard, alienated, desperate state 
of mind ; and the idea that God was so ready to forgive 
and bless and save even me, notwithstanding my long life 
of sin, overpowered my feelings, and sent me too' my knees, 
as soon as I found myself alone, I then, for some days, was 
in much the same condition as before described, when my 
funeral was so constantly before my eyes, accompanied 
with the dreadful sentence, " This is the man that made 
not God his friend." The world looked gloomy to me, and 
I had no taste for business or diversion of any kind. With- 
out God and without hope in the world, were the words 
continually recurring to my mind. For weeks and months 
following this date, my soul was more absorbed in the 
things of religion than anything else. Dr. Stiles' preaching 
from Sabbath to Sabbath, and his prayers and exhortations 



77 

at other meetings, went home to my understanding and con- 
science, as no such exercises ever did before. It would be 
tedious to particularize. But I may mention that his ser- 
mon from the text, " If I be a Father where is my honor ?" 
was a powerful one to me, and so were his numerous ser- 
mons on the love, grace, mediatorship, and atoning sacrifice 
of Christ. A remark which he made in one of his sermons, 
that "nothing stands between the sinner and salvation 
but his own will" came home to my mind as clearly as 
light, and, as a visible, tangible truth, practical in my own 
case, it was new to me ; for I had always had a secret feel- 
ing that I was willing and waiting to be saved; but that 
God was not quite ready ; — that I must use more means, 
strive more, be better, &c, and then perhaps He would 
receive me. For weeks and months, my trips in the cars 
to and from New York were almost wholly devoted to re- 
ligious thought and the repetition of hymns ; and I may 
say, they were pleasant seasons, particularly after my mind 
had settled to some degree of calmness. The hymns which 
I speak of, — I mean those which were continually recurring 
to my mind, — I had never committed to memory, although 
I had often read them. The first hymn that occupied this 
prominence in my mind, was that beginning, 

" Like sheep we went astray. 
And broke the fold of God." 

bringing up vividly man's ruin and Christ's sacrifice. A 
little later, the hymn, 

" How heavy is the night. 
That hangs upon our eyes, 
'Till Christ with his reviving light 
Over our souls arise," 



78 



was uppermost in my thoughts. This hymn revealed the 
preciousness of Christ, and His perfect righteousness in 
place of my unrighteousness. 

Our guilty spirits dread 

To meet the wrath of Heaven, 
But in his righteousness arrayed, 

"We see our sins forgiven. 

Unholy and impure, 

Are all our thoughts and ways, 
His hand infected nature cures, 

"With sanctifying grace. 

The powers of hell agree 

To hold our souls in vain ; 
He sets the sons of bondage free, 

And breaks the cursed chain. 

Lord, we adore thy ways 

To bring us near to GTod ; 
Thy sovereign power, thy healing grace, 

And thine atoning blood. 

These two hymns, I suppose, passed through my mind 
scores, if not hundreds of times, and seemed fresh and in- 
teresting each time, and an exact expression of my own 
feelings and views. Later, and after the strength of my 
feelings had subsided, the hymn, 

" The Lord my Shepard is," 

took the place of the foregoing ; or perhaps I should say, 
was added to them ; and was often repeated, with admira- 
tion and delight. 

And here I must say, that if God has begun a good work 
in me, (concerning which I am in great doubt,) I suppose 



79 



the change took place within three months after Dr. Stiles 
came to New Haven. I recollect to have had very distinct 
and strong impressions of the readiness of God in Christ to 
save sinners, even the chief; and that all the reason why I 
was not saved, was my own unwillingness to submit. All 
my hardness towards God seemed to have passed away, 
and I looked upon Him and His character with approbation, 
At least I thought so, and that I wished none of His attri 
butes or commandments changed, whatever might be the 
consequences to me personally. 

I have not allowed myself to hope that I was a renewed 
man, and yet I have detected a lurking hope, for a number of 
months past, — I hardly know why, unless it be that I have 
had an habitual feeling akin to reconciliation^ and an inter- 
est in the prosperity of the Redeemer's kingdom. But on 
the other hand, I find so much coldness in my heart, so 
little love and faith, if, any zX all — and so many other 
things that a holy God cannot approve, that I know not 
whether I have any right to enter Christ's fold. I shall 
take it as a real kindness, if my Christian friends will probe 
my heart to the bottom, and then advise me what is my 
duty. I earnestly desire faithful and plain dealing, in a 
matter involving the well-being of my soul, and in some 
small measure the purity of the church and the Glory of 
God. 



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